The Quilt Before the Storm (17 page)

“Can’t he see what she’s doing?” Carla asked.

“Ordinarily, yes, but she’s obviously found something to scare or intimidate him with. That’s what we need to figure out. What does she have on him?”

“She doesn’t give up easy, does she?” Carla said. “He’s turned down her calls for money a lot just since I’ve been working there.”

“She’s determined, I’ll give her that.”

“Why doesn’t she just work?” Carla wondered. “Isn’t she some kind of attorney?”

“Yes, and she works at it, but Aiden said it’s simple—she spends more than she and her husband make. He said she was like that as a kid, too. She was always trying to con him and his brother out of their allowance.”

“But she’s older than him,” Carla protested.

“You got it. He was in grade school, and she was in high school, talking him out of his lunch money, according to my aunt.”

“That’s awful.”

“Yes, it is. That’s why I’m sure she’s running some sort of scam on him, using his goodness and loyalty to get him to leave town and hand over his money. Your mission is to listen more and see if you can figure out what her angle is this time.”

Carla agreed to do to her best and rang off.

Harriet again turned, intending to get her jacket and go outside to start assessing the cleanup that would be needed, when the phone rang again.

“Oh, good, you do have a working land line,” Tom Bainbridge said in place of a greeting.

“Hello to you, too. What’s up?”

“I’m going a little stir-crazy here and was wondering if you wanted to take another ride out to the homeless camp with me.”

“There’s a lot of that going around,” Harriet said. “I’d love to go. Jorge and the rest of my crew here are planning on taking a hot lunch of bean-and-rice burritos to the homeless folks in just a while.”

“Do you need to go with them?”

“Not at all. In fact, I think a little space would help us all. I’m ready whenever you want to leave.”

“In that case, I’ll be there in less than thirty minutes. I’ll be driving my host’s pickup this time, so we’ll be a little more comfortable.”

True to his word, Tom arrived a half-hour later. Harriet met him in the driveway, a dog leash in each hand, Curly and Pamela circling and scratching in the leaves under one of the trees that lined the drive.

“Looks like you have your hands full there,” Tom said as he got out of the red pickup. The cargo bed had several cases of water and canned goods and more plastic-wrapped plates of homemade cookies.

“Wow,” Harriet said. “Is there no end to your host’s stockpile?”

“Doesn’t seem like it, does it?” Tom said. “They’re good people, but they like to be prepared for any eventuality, up to and including nuclear holocaust. And, yes, they do have full chemical/gas protective suits, complete with tanks of oxygen.”

“Wow,” Harriet repeated.

“They really are nice people, apart from the disaster preparation thing. And you sort of forget about it once you get used to them.”

“If you say so,” she said with a smile.

“So, what’s the plan?”

“Jorge and Lauren and Aunt Beth are driving to the camp to deliver the burritos, and we all thought we’d see if we could help with cleanup. I already put some rakes and trimmers and stuff like that in the back of Jorge’s truck.”

“Good, I could use the exercise. Mr. and Mrs. Renfro have been playing cards endlessly. Judging by the running score of five thousand, six hundred forty-five to four thousand, nine hundred seventy-seven, I’m pretty sure they do this even when there’s power. They’re so competitive, I find myself watching for hours on end when I’m supposed to be sketching buildings or something.”

Harriet filled him in on the Loose Threads’ alleged assignment from Detective Morse.

“Sounds like you’ve got all the necessary roles cast, but if I can help, count me in.”

“Let me take these two back inside,” Harriet said indicating the dogs. “Mavis is going to stay home with all the critters and to keep the home fires blazing. Literally.”

“Connie’s going to meet us at the camp,” Aunt Beth said when Harriet came inside. “Her hubby is working with a group of volunteers removing downed trees from streets and driveways.”

“I’m going on over to the park with Tom,” Harriet told her. “He’s got some water and other supplies for the campers.”

“I’ll be another few minutes more with the burritos,” Jorge said. He was systematically rolling them then wrapping the finished product in foil. “But you go on ahead.” He gave her a quick wink.

“Okay,” she said as she got into Tom’s borrowed truck, “we’re free to go. Jorge said they’ll be along in a few minutes.”

“So, we’re free till then?”

Harriet studied him for a long moment.

“Ye-e-es,” she said slowly. “May I ask why that matters?”

“Oh, we’re just taking a small detour.”

Harriet raised her left eyebrow.

“Relax, I’m not kidnapping you or anything. We can’t leave Foggy Point, remember?”

He guided the truck to the Strait of Juan de Fuca, taking numerous detours around downed trees and small slides before pulling into a wayside viewpoint, parking and getting out. Harriet followed him to a small stone enclosure. A brushed-steel sign was mounted flat to the back of the space and described the seabirds that frequented this point. A roughhewn bench spanned the covered space.

“Wait here,” Tom said and, when Harriet sat, jogged back to the truck then returned with one hand held behind his back.

“What’s going on?” Harriet started to stand.

“Relax,” he said, and she sank back onto the bench as he swept his hidden hand into view, presenting her with a bunch of flowers. At least, it resembled a bunch of flowers.

“What is this?” she asked as she took the cellophane-wrapped bouquet of holly that was brightened with what turned out to be carefully crafted origami flowers.

“I just thought you might need something to brighten your day,” he said with a smile. He sat down beside her.

“Did you make these?” She bent to sniff them out of habit and was surprised to find they smelled faintly of roses.

“Don’t sound so surprised. Mrs. R taught me how to make them the first day, in between card games. She has lots of craft supplies. She also provided the rosewater. She said her grandkids and great-grandkids have given her enough cologne to float an ocean liner.”

Harriet laughed.

“What? A guy can’t make paper flowers? It’s not that different from making architectural models. Paper is paper.”

“This is very unexpected…and very sweet,” she said and bent to smell them again.

She felt a gentle touch on her chin. She turned and as she did, Tom brushed his lips against hers. When she didn’t resist, he put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer, deepening the kiss.

He broke contact and pulled back, using his fingers to brush her bangs away from her face. He searched her eyes with his.

“Are we okay?” he asked in a quiet voice.

Harriet’s cheeks had turned pink, and she could feel the heat all the way to her toes.

“We’re fine,” she said and smiled. Only a little twinge of guilt twisted her stomach.

Tom took her free hand and pulled her to her feet.

“We better get to the camp before your aunt sends a search party out after us.”

“You’re right—and, Tom…” She paused for a moment. “Thanks for bringing me here.”

He put his arm around her shoulders and walked her back to the truck.

“I designed that,” he said as he was turning the truck onto the road again.

“The bench thingy?”

“I believe the proper term is
kiosk
, but, yes, the bench thingy.”

“I’m impressed.”

“It was a long time ago, while I was still in college. We all had to submit designs for scenic wayside kiosks. I was lucky—mine was chosen to be implemented.”

“Now I’m
really
impressed.”

“It’s not like I saved the life of a tortured animal or anything.”

“Hey,” Harriet said and reached across the center console to touch his arm. “This isn’t a competition, and I certainly don’t choose my friends based on their work output.” She was quiet for a moment. “I do like your bench thingy, though.”

Tom glanced at her with a grin.

“I feel like I’m back in high school.”

“As you pointed out a few days ago, I don’t seem to have a committed relationship with anyone, so I’m free to have as many friends as I want. Can we just leave it at that?”

“As long as I get to see you, I’m fine with leaving things as they are,” he said. “For now.”

Jorge’s truck was already parked near the restrooms when Tom pulled in. A blue Peterbilt truck sleeper was at the far side of the area. The couple, Harriet assumed.

Aunt Beth, Lauren and Connie stood in a half-circle near the tailgate while Jorge handed pans of food and bags of paper goods to the group from the bed of the truck.

“Did you get lost?” Aunt Beth asked.

“It’s my fault,” Tom explained. “I wanted to show Harriet a sample of my work, and we had to take a pretty long detour to get there.”

“Uh-huh,” Beth said. “We certainly didn’t see any of your work at your mother’s place.”

Harriet glared at her.

“Can we help you unload Tom’s truck?” Connie asked. “Come on, Lauren,” she added before Lauren could add her own comment about Harriet and Tom’s delay.

Joyce came out of the ladies restroom and smiled when she saw the group slowly making their way toward the trail behind the building.

“We brought you a hot meal.” Jorge raised his pan slightly.

“Oh, my,” Joyce said. “You
are
a welcome sight. We’ve been living off what Tom and Harriet brought, and we’re only eating two meals a day.”

“What would you have done if we hadn’t showed up?” Lauren asked.

“Lauren,” Harriet warned and glared at her.

“I’m just curious about how this all works. I’m self-employed—you never know what’s going to happen. I mean, I could end up down here with them. I need to know what preparations I should make. You know, just in case.”

“Yeah, right.”

“Did you tell the police what happened here?” Joyce asked Tom.

“We did,” Harriet answered. “They’ve got their own problems—all the detectives got stuck on the other side of the slide. We reported to the officer at the station, but he’s stuck downtown with another guy because the river overflowed the bridge right after we left. Anyway, without being able to access the station and with little communication, the police aren’t going to be any help anytime soon.”

“What are we supposed to do?” Joyce asked. “Should we bury him?”

“
No!
” Harriet and Lauren and Beth said at the same time.

“You can’t destroy the evidence,” Harriet added.

“I know it seems disrespectful,” Aunt Beth soothed her. “But the best thing for your friend is to figure out who killed him, and to do that the police need all the evidence they can get.”

“It doesn’t seem right to leave him lying there,” Joyce protested.

“Has anyone gone in to that stall in the restroom?” Harriet asked.

“We haven’t been using the men’s room at all, but you can see how it is. Anyone could go in if they wanted to. All they’d have to do is wait until everyone is asleep or in their own area.”